My Latest Project: Done!

Excerpts from a Zoo Intern's Journal, Pt. I

Names and details fudged to protect the innocent and influential.

Day one. Although we corresponded beforehand about my sizes, the supervisor didn’t have time to look for a uniform for me, so we spend the first 15-20 minutes searching. What are the odds they have other fat zookeepers? Aren't they usually outdoorsy, willowy people with ponytails? Surprise! None in my size. Fortunately, I brought scrubs.

A call comes over the radio that one of the ferrets has crashed and needs to be taken to the clinic stat. A senior zookeeper rushes out with the limp critter in a carrying case and we all run over to the clinic. (I learn here that my boots are going to be too stiff.) Heloise has collapsed before, but not this badly. She was flat out in the middle of her cage, which is a sorry sight when you know that ferrets are usually hidden in their bedding or zipping around like they are on fast forward.

W., the vet tech, administers dextrose and fluids both SQ and PO for hypoglycemic shock. Heloise slowly revives, but is still blinking and stumbling a bit when Karen OKs her to go back to her cage. Pitiful! One of the veterinarians is coming in today, so they will run bloods and consult on her problem.

...

Later, W. walks me through the clinic. She shows me how to run the radiograph processing machine, which is pretty straightforward. The smell of the chemicals brings me back to my darkroom and retouching years in high school and college. Next thing you know I'll be putting on a black beret. W. says their budget isn’t huge, and they just got the machine about a year ago. All rads were hand-developed before that. It’s quite a difference from the digital set-up at my job. Fancy emergency hospital group, meet small, non-profit zoo.

All animals are kept in quarantine 30 days, more if they end up housed with later arrivals. In quarantine right now are a green-winged king parrot, 2 monkey frogs and, in the back room, 2 mata mata turtles and a nervous fruit dove. There’s also a tragopan –a type of pheasant- elsewhere in the clinic that was scalped by another bird. I can’t get into her area, nor am I allowed in with the macaques, for liability reasons. I’m a little sorry about the macaques, but not at all about being banned from being near the Hamadryas baboons. Those guys are one of the few animals I am actively frightened by. They're all aggression, muscle and teeth.

...

Karen shows me basic husbandry – hosing down enclosures, feeding, etc. I have to be extra careful to watch the drains if I have the covers up, so animals don’t go down them. The parrot, “Holly” according to W., is an escape artist, too. I am do a head count on everyone – especially the tiny, jumpy mantella frogs – and to note feedings on and the animals' health on cards. The mantellas are poison dart frogs I've never seen before, ebony black with outlines in yellow, green and orange. "It's okay, I've been to your cloud forest and respect you," I silently tell them. Hop, hop, suspiciously hop, the mantellas say.

The mata matas get around 10-12 minnows every couple days and have an optimal water temperature of 80-85 °F - similar to my red-eared slider turtles. The mata matas are so COOL! They look like lumps of leaves with triangular heads. The shells are covered in pointed peaks, and their skin is covered in irregular nodules and flaps, to make them look all the more like plant litter at the bottom of a creek. Their tiny snouts just poke up out of the water. Just when you think they're ugly, you look closely enough at their alien faces, and their mouths turn up like a happy-face smile...

Gobble Gobble Hey

Sorry I've been such an absent blogger and not commented on others' blogs, lately. School has been beating my ass.

The good news is, I seem to be beginning to beat its ass back. That's right, I got the results of my latest Chem exam this morning. This was the one I was fairly sure I'd be lucky if I got a 70 on, and figured would probably indicate that there was no way I'd be getting into the clinical program (thus meaning my whole school time was a waste, I was a failure, I should go live in my mother's basement, etc.). Well, guesswhatholycrap I got a 94 on it! Apparently, I didn't have to get all the answers right exactly (although I did almost all of them right, to my surprise), I could get credit for using the correct formulas, setting up my problem accordingly, and showing I did the work. Go know!

Not only that, but the teacher decided to throw in an extra 5 points for everybody, just as "Thanksgiving points" - which means my grade will go down as a 99!

I think I frightened some of my classmates when I got my exam back and doubled over yelping "WHAT??!!" It was a happy yelp, though. This takes so much pressure off me, you can't imagine. I mean, maybe you can, and I still have to keep working hard, but it means my studying paid off, and I'm not in danger of getting below a C (which would surely knock me out of running for the clinical program). I'd started to consider what kind of full-time work I'd have to start looking for when I failed out at the end of the semester, and convinced myself that no matter how hard I studied, I'd never grasp anything about Chemistry, and now this.

I think I can enjoy my Thanksgiving, now.

So, thanks being in order this time of year, thank you to all of you who read my self-involved rants and leave supportive comments. It really does help. Now I'm taking a long nap before I start my reading for my final Intro to Vet Tech project on green sea turtles, and reviewing chapters of Chem. I hope you all have a great holiday, and have some time and space to remember what you have to be thankful for, too.

Fuck. We're Back.

Fresh lychee breakfasts while watching sea turtles and tropical fish frolic from our balcony.

Snorkeling, snorkeling and more snorkeling.

Semi-successful sea kayaking (sure, we tipped over, but at least we didn't try to drown each other in a panic like one of the other couples).

Scenic hiking to a secluded spot ringed by lava rocks, coconut palms and basking green turtles.

Reeeeally good potato-mac salad.

SCUBA diving for the first time (with sharks!)

Sunset tropical cocktails at Don the Beachcomber's.

Frolics on scenic and secluded beaches.

Traversing several climate zones to partake in scenic views (mostly of cows).

Minor nervous breakdown while realizing one's own universal insignificance while hiking across a huge volcanic caldera full of baby Earth.

First helicopter flight - over flowing lava!

Approximately one squillion photos and videos of trip to go through.

Airplane breakdown and weather resulting in over 48 hours of travel home, including a forced layover in scenic Pittsburgh, PA.

Return to very happy cats and very stinky apartment.

Mrs. Nator's newly hired staff member emailing that he won't be able to take the job after all, as his partner has been transferred.

Landlords claiming that we will have to pay for damages to the drop ceiling of the apartment below due to a minor amount of water getting through the floor that they've known for years is hole-ridden subflooring that funnels any spills right through.

Trying to figure out if I'll get student loans, how to register on Wednesday and how the hell I can start making at least $400 per week immediately.

... any questions?

She No Likey

We are well-meaning, we really are. But our critters don't care.

Case in point, our female turtle, Edamame. By all general measures, she has thrived. She has grown to large, may we say giant-ass, proportions, has her own 90 gallon tank (since she evicted Aubergine, the boy turtle, by repeatedly biting chunks out of his butt), a nice, hard shell, a good diet, etc. But the one thing she will not do is lay eggs.

"But Nator," you ask, "why should that turtle lay eggs if she doesn't want to, much less hasn't even been fertilized by a male turtle?" Well, I'll tell you, you ignorant slut. Like chickens, lady turtles produce eggs whether they are fertilized are not. Also like chickens, they like a dry, warm place to lay their eggs. Unfortunately, unlike chickens, lady turtles spend most of their time swimming in water, or basking on hard surfaces. In the wild, they would find a patch of loose dirt or sand not far from their pond, dig down a ways and let 'er rip. But in a captive environment, you need to furnish them with some sort of nesting area, because if they don't lay, the eggs get all calcified and hard inside the lady turtle, taking up space where, say, lady turtle organs should be. Not good.

In our case, constructing some kind of land/water hybrid terrarium was an overwhelming prospect. So, we figured we'd do as some other folks do and get Ms. Eddie a box full of loose earth where she could spend some quiet time laying her eggs. Of course, it can't just be any box of dirt. It's got to be big enough to hold her giant ass and then some, so she can turn around, and full of enough loose dirt that she can dig down all the way the length of her giant-ass shell. And the dirt has to be the right texture, plus free of outside organisms that might put an indoor-raised turtle's immune system into a frenzy, so you have to buy some kind of special amphibian dirt from the pet store. The most common and economical kind is not really dirt at all, but blocks of dehydrated coconut husks, which you soak in water and then dry out to form a loose, dirt-ish, fibrous substance that turtles can dig in. And that's what we done done. Done dood. Whatever.

The problem is, Eddie hates it. She doesn't like being taken out of her tank (and her giant ass is matched by a giant, bitey mouth on the other end), she doesn't like going in the box, she doesn't like the coconut husks and she most certainly doesn't like staying in the box. So, rather than relaxing and laying her eggs, Ms. Eddie tries repeatedly to escape, almost succeeding, until we put something heavy on the top of it. She then gets quiet - ominously quiet - until you think something's wrong in there, like she suffocated herself or something. So you go and check on her and she just glares at you, like she is the most abused creature ever and you are the worst being in the world. Then if you seal her up again she tries to escape some more, until you give up, rinse the coating of coconut husks off her and put her back in her tank. Results? No eggs, no how, no doin'.

Also? After a few days sitting around? Rehydrated coconuts husks smell.

Let me out of thees box, you stupeed human! I keel you! And get thees atrocious, smelly coconuts off me!

Meanwhile, Aubergine has just gotten used to having her big tank to cavort in (where he's gotten play time, since he's normally confined to the small tank, away from her bitey mouth), but now you have to go scoop him out and confine him again, making him fear you like the giant, mammalian, probable turtle-eater that you are. All in all, you are a Bad Mommy, and whenever the turtles get to the turtle afterlife, they're going to tell on you to St. Peter or St. Francis or the Keymaster of Gozer or whoever and generally make sure you become a shish kabob when you arrive, yourself.

I has a big tank!

But, there's nothing for it. For now, we have to keep on trying, to see if maybe she gets used to it eventually and squirts out some huevos. If that doesn't happen, at some point we will have to haul her into an "exotic" specialist vet to get some x-rays taken, to make sure that she hasn't gotten impacted. And if she has? Extremely expensive and risky turtle surgery, or probable death. Hooray!

So all y'all out there who feel for critters, please send us wooOOOOoons of egg-laying, now and then, to encourage Ms. Eddie to freakin' save her own life. We hate to scare her by putting her in the box - fear is not good for turtles' immune systems, either - but we don't have much choice.

Unless anyone out there has a nice, clean home pond they'd want some turtles for? Anyone? Bueller...?